Perpetual Warfare
by S0L4R
Summary: You hear of an odd man and his possession of a tome of tales. You decide to pay a visit and take it for your own in your collection of literature. (Will see some updates on older chapters and a small change in how the story is read. Besides that, don't rely on the updates to continue the actual story to be often.)
1. Chapter 1

**Amateur Author's Notes**  
Still my first story, but updated. Please leave any suggestions for revision. I'm serious...

Also, as I go around and update the chapters, they will be marked with an '(Update)' at the beginning, for ease of finding. They'll consistent of glaring grammar errors fixes (or at least the ones I can find) and an update to the _Amateur's Author's Notes,_ with the story's lore and such in mind, in case you would like to further immerse yourself into what I've found and inferred. Stay tuned.

* * *

A story, you say? Surely you would like a fine blade, in its stead? A pair of boots for the hard road?

No?

Very well, let me fetch the two so they can get the tome.

Quirt? Sithil? Come now, someone needs a good telling.

It's been a while since anyone would request a tale reading, let alone _that one…_ But worry not, I must provide to my valued fellow what is due.

Please, have a seat on the stump, right over there.

Do not be frivolous about the time this may take, the night is still young for a good story.

Ah, there you two are. Give it here.

Say, traveler… Would you like some addleberry tea while you listen to this? I insist; it's on the house.

Let's see, our story starts in this wondrous world, in which you have no doubt. One man and his four-legged friend are mired in the hunt of an infamous creature. They knew that it would soon come to an end, but they'll eventually come to a grim realization that they have much more to do before the pages of history be done with them.

* * *

 _ **Prologue I**_

The sun's warmth enveloped the evergreen trees while they whistled in the wind's gentle embrace, and the mild, flowing river teemed with wildlife of all backgrounds and roles. The rays reached the arching crags beside the river, painting it in gradients of a rich orange as it set in the horizon, announcing to the land and its inhabitants the time of day, in which they have seen many a day before, same as ever, just as the hum-drum occupants in this forest like it. Indeed, there are some that would do nothing more than to disturb this tranquility, as it may be in their nature to do so, either by necessity or as a consequence, or for the sheer fact that they can choose to do so.

A rustle in the brush scares off an innocent little rodent looking for her mate, for fear of a ravenous beast looking for a morsel to devour is sure to set any small being off from it and all it may choose to haunt. However, the brave soul that wrestled his way out of the vegetation is one to look towards that which may dare to disturb, setting his sights on none other than one of those whom do as they please, with little regard to the outcome. Unfortunately, There are not many sane minds in this realm that would yearn for a tangle with an Eldwyrm, lest they lose their troublesome noggin. On top of that, who _can_ fight a legendary dragon that has decimated dozens upon dozens of creatures and men that would try their luck against this hierarchy of power set up by none other than these fierce creatures and their kin? Not many, that is without question.

The courageous soul from the greenery scanned the perimeter, sweeping away any leaves and such from his crimson and sable equipment, as even a knight must keep his bearing in shape even in such a location. He found himself in a clearing, the very glade the villagers a few hours away had informed him of. It had the imposing face of a cliff to his left, with the gushing river and setting sun to his right. His target was just up ahead, lying in its den. He eyed the river once more and was reminded of his thirst. An old thought came to him.

"Now, where has he gone off to?" the man in plate muttered with a slight hint of disapproval as he scrutinizes the area around him once more.

Another disturbance in the brush, and instead of a fine stallion befitting of the great man, out came a beige mule wrapped in a dark leather harness and a fine piece of fabric that has a black and red pattern to it and donning the same draconic coat-of-arms on said fabric. He carried a lengthy shield on his back, with a familiar emblem. He also carried in his saddlery many other necessities for the survival of both of them for their journeys.

"There you are!" the knight barked, approaching his trusted mule.

He pets his faithful companion upside the head and reaches into the pouches in the holsters of harness and grasps onto two enchanted glass bottles engraved with a motif that brings gusts of wind to mind. The knight loosened the rich, mahogany-colored corks one by one until two satisfying pops were heard from the containers. The bottles were rushed to the bank of the stream, and with a prolonged dip in the flowing river, the bottles were filled to the brim. The knight set himself down in relief of a journey's wearing hardships. He whistled his mule over after he chugged down the magical energy-bolstering contents of his bottle.

The dragon-slayer downed all the fluid in his container and removed his weighty helm from his short and kempt haired head, then he gazed into the gently flowing water. He had only seen a little more than two decades in life's trials, but already he is marred by wrinkles and other little marks. There was a small spot of dirt and green on his worn face. It was removed promptly with a few dashes of water. Then, something nudges his arm, and he turns to see his brown-furred company with pleading eyes. Chuckling, the knight gives him a few swigs of water at a time until his own bottle is empty. The hunter proceeded to refill the bottles, place them back in their respective pouches, cover up his cranium with metal, and was on his way to continue with his task.

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

I think Davion would seem like the proudest of the knights in Dota, beating Chen's zeal and air of contempt for none believers. He's kinda vain, serious about his work and standing, all of that.

Anyway, I still decided against changing the beginning, my point still stands on the first few paragraphs of the actual story being meaningful of the story in some pretentious, symbolic way. It'll make sense later, I'm sure.

Leave some reviews for revision and criticism first, and praise second, because real criticism will be the only thing that genuinely helps. Follow and whatever for notifications of upcoming content.


	2. Chapter 2

Ahh, the tea is especially rich this time. I would even say that it might be my best brew yet!

Now, now… You two had best not be sleeping already? The traveler here has only just arrived.

Come, huddle around the fire, if you must.

* * *

 ** _Prologue 2_**

From the ancient spring atop the mountainous cavern gushed water to the cave's interior, crashing onto the depressions of the cavern in the form of a waterfall. Through erosion and its own combined force, the water carved a path for it to go, making the river from which the nearby denizens of the wild may drink from. Some of the water strayed from landing on the river, however, and made their home on the stalactites near the falls that gushed on without these few drops. Even so, these few droplets cannot escape their fate in falling down like the rest. Their descent and impact on the hard ground made a rhythmic pattern. All is the same as ever, in this world.

The clink of precious metal and other treasures in the chamber right beside the falling water resonated loudly, all of a sudden, as its burly owner shifted uncomfortably on top of it. Many things swirled within this old legend's mind: some of its thoughts focused on its sickness and age; a mite of these its next meal; and the remaining half on nostalgia.

This nostalgia was not merely of one being able to have the energy and mindset of its younger self, but it is a form of nostalgia that brings raids of epic proportions, duels and wars with those that dared to challenge, and many other glorious things to mind, but those days are over, now, and this proud old warrior spends what little time he has left, laying on some of his legacy, using it as bedding. In particularly boring days like these, he would fantasize of an event where another soul like him were to do him a favor and honor him with one last fight. Even though he may have lost the same passion for burning down castles, he couldn't bear the thought of having to deal with dying a cowardly death, but a wizened, old, and sickly dragon like this could only dream, for he hardly has the strength to do much besides trouble the nearby village for some of their delicious cattle, let alone seek out an opponent to honor this wish.

The grand, old reptile breathes out a low, but loud sigh, which echoed a great many times in his old abode. Then, a familiar scent hits his nostrils, one he has not been acquainted with for a while. Perhaps wishes do come true after all, don't they, traveler…?

As the knight approached the target's den at the end of the woods, his mule became somewhat agitated. The knight noticed this, and immediately recognized the cause for such behavior: the eldwyrm was inside. The hunter felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. He kept his mule from going any further, and loosened the constraints on the shield his companion carried.

The man in plate took up his shining shield and broad blade and set foot within the cave, ready to end his hunt. The faint squeals of bats and few other critters rang out and found his ears, heard repetitively to all by the acoustics of the grand cave. As he meandered within the cavern, he keeps up a dedicated vigil, ready to react at a moment's notice to any sudden movements or noise. A loud groan from a great beast is heard, and the knight tensed up, but kept his composure and looked around, but found nothing. The sound was somewhat more faint than it should be, the knight noted. Perhaps the source was further to the end of the cave?

The hunter tread carefully towards the origin, and traversed through the stalagmites that litter the location, encountering a familiar river. On a hunch, the knight followed the stream upwards on its left bank, where further on ahead he could hear the cascading falls crashing only softly onto the ground from where he was. The footing on the narrow path around around the streaming body of water was poor, but years spent in plate have given the knight a fine balance and coordination, even in these conditions for as long as a little care was given.

Eventually, the winding river led him to the falls in all its beautiful and rather loud resplendence. A few pieces of brilliant, golden mint laid near the left of it, on the same bank he tread upon. He went to the wall's edge and peaked his covered visage slowly and slightly around the corner to where the rest of the gold most likely resided, steadily revealing a large room with a scaled beast in it, staring straight into his soul.

"Damn!" the knight exclaims, as he backed his head out of the dragon's den.

 **"Hold!"** the old dragon bellows in a show of bravado. **"I mean you no harm."**

The knight, no longer looking at the beast, had pushed his back against the wall so the dragon doesn't transfigure him to what would be used as charcoal to any passerby that would stumble across his remains.

"And for what reason should I trust that which has killed many of my comrades before me?" The knight demands bitterly, screaming to make his voice heard over the falling water.

 **"If I had been able to kill you, I would have done so by now, as you have not done much of a fine job in masking your scent."** The dragon retorted at his rookie mistake.

The hunter clenched his fists tightly around his weapons, forgetting something so simple that – as the eldwyrm pointed out – would have gotten him killed. But then he remembered what he just said.

"What now, then, Slyrak?" the knight said. "If you aren't going to kill me, what is it you want?"

 **"Well, first of all...Your name, mortal. Surely you have one, do you not?"** the dragon said.

The falls next to the two flowed on for what felt like hours to Slyrak as he wondered if the young knight slipped away under the cover the cascading water's din. He almost sighed in defeat until...

"Davion," the knight said, "of the Scaled Knights of Uthorian."

 **"Very well, Sir Davion"** the dragon mumbles, **"I have another request for you."**

"What is it, you fiend?"

 **"I am nothing but a shell of what I once was. Ages have passed by, and I have become careless of my condition."** The old wyrm says, his tone a complete opposite of what it once was just a moment ago, **"I beg of you, honor this old soul with one, final duel..."**

Another moment of silence. The wyrm had only hoped that his plea didn't seem too obvious. He didn't want make a mockery of himself, and seeing his achievements from times past, he had a lot more to lose than any most others.

Again, the knight did not respond. Once again, Slyrak had hoped that he didn't go then and there, this time with his pathetic confession as his trophy. However, the man around the corner was scrupled with some troubling thoughts. On one hand, the prey he had hunted for years is right there, a few feet away, anticipating a clash. On the other, dragon murder.

Slyrak felt that the knight was crueler than he had hoped, leaving him to die like this, but after seeing the young man in plated armor enter his den, all doubts were quelled.

The hunter was met with a clearer view of his prey, and found himself disappointed, as his eyes saw a frail, overgrown reptile with dull fangs, damaged wings, and rotten scales. A sense of remorse washed over him as he looked into Slyrak's face. Sadly enough for this man, the dragon reminded him of his hound, suffering from age like this old soul. He remembered the day he had to put his old friend down to end his suffering. Now, it seems the situation he's in is no different.

The knight readied himself, and the dragon in front of him stepped forward gently, honorably accepting his immediate death. With another drop of water from above hitting the ground, the knight charged.

The wyrm swung his left claw downwards at him, and the knight deftly stepped aside from the attack. The dragon jumped back to stay out of reach of a counter, and scattering the gold he has amassed all around them in a dizzying spectacle. The hunter still ran towards the target, with the bulwark in front of him easily blocking another of the misfortune dragon's attempts at his savior. The knight retaliated with a swipe of his own, drawing blood from the ancient wyrm's breast. The beast roared in pain, and the knight faltered a bit from the fierce sound of it. The creature struck again, his upward strike with his tail meeting a shield, sending the owner flying back into a small pile gold and trinkets. Slyrak bellowed a fierce roar, spitting out a small gout of flame with it. The cavern's stalactites quivered from the sound, and fell upon them all. The beast repelled most of the rocks away with his tattered wings, and the disoriented knight hid under his shield. Davion quickly rose from his spot and charged at his foe once more, ensuring the dragon deals him no harm while he does so. After the dragon missed his final strike, the young knight slashed his sharp sword into the wound he had made before, forming a bloody X, which bled profusely all over the beast's chest and his talons, no doubt tiring him with every move he makes. The beast gave yet another cry of pain before stumbling clumsily back and falling. The knight climbed atop the belly of his fallen, exhausted foe, breathing heavily and still emotionally disturbed by the situation. He gazed at the writhing wyrm, before finally deciding to sink his sword in his prey's damaged breast.

As the blade went through Slyrak's chest, a talon drove into the knight's throat. The crimson liquids of the two conjoined in a forgotten ritual of gory matrimony. The hunter was certainly not pleased. As he choked from having his neck ruptured, he began to lose his senses.

 **"I will not forget what you have done for me...Sir Knight..."** The dragon sputtered. Davion was not too certain, but the dragon almost seemed to glow, but that could have been just his panicked mind playing one final trick on him. **"The least that can be done...Is to grant you my power..."**

The wyrm retracted his claw, and all was silent.

* * *

 **A.A.N**

Really proud of this chapter. Once again, a symbolic meaning. This time in the water. It represents Slyrak's life and backstory (which I will get to much later.)

In my headcanon, Slyrak is not what he seems. He's more than just a dragon. He and Davion share more than a similar personality that favor things like honor and glory above all.

Don't worry, it'll all make sense later...


	3. Chapter 3

**_Prologue III_**

 _Davion's eyes opened to find nothing but nothingness itself, with only his physical form present in the abyss, though only just barely. The knight despaired since he could no longer find his way, unable to help himself. He was left hollow, for he has nothing anymore. Then, a surge of brilliance dawned upon him, with two sources of light, one a dark glow, and the other a blinding light. The two lecture him about the greater things in life and beyond it, and the clueless man could have spent ages learning from their amassed knowledge of the world, should he desire. The memetic, orange glow is powerful, omnipresent, and very willing to sharing its strength to its allies. It gave the knight ambition and a hint of energy that only left him craving for more. The bright, blue light is ancient, wise, and above all: loyal to those that would aid it. It filled the knight with purpose and confidence, which is a powerful thing in its own right. Both compelled him to draw near their illustrious bodies, and Davion had an uncontrollable urge that would drive him to reach out for that which in the end he could not truly understand in his lifetime. The two took note of this, and urged him to choose wisely, regardless._

His eyes were heavier than they had ever been, and it was a struggle to open them. His neck was sore, as though something very large had gouged it just now. He was lying on a cot in a corner, within a relatively well maintained room with wooden walls. It was well lit by the lantern on the stool beside his bedding. The room was minimally decorated, with just a drawer and chest at an adjacent corner to his left and a small rug to the side of bed, where the rested would lay their feet after rousing from their slumber. A door was left opened at another corner, right in front of him. He could not see anything except the hallway's wall. There was one window at the opposite corner, diagonal to the corner Davion rested at. Although he was not close to it, he could see that the outside of his peaceful environment, the land was in the midst of a storm.

He soon realized he was not wearing his armor, just some simple clothing that proved too tight for his muscular frame. He rises out of his slump and all the meanwhile is pestered by his tender throat. Dumbstruck, he finally remembered why it was bothering him at all. Flashes of a battle with the wyrm, Slyrak, rush through his brain. He should be dead right now, lying in a pool of blood beside whom he assumed to be a practitioner of underhanded tactics.

Mind you, traveler, he did not quite catch Slyrak's final words. Would one be able to keep calm and focus if there was an overgrown nail of dragon in their throat?

"Why…?" he mutters, his voice hoarse, and his vocal cords agitated from premature use.

He feels his neck with his hands, and surprisingly, he does not find any form of bandaging around him, and his throat's texture is fine, smooth, even, as if it were years younger.

"I see you are awake, Sir Knight."

The soft, feminine voice at the door Davion startled him, and his head swerved to meet its owner. An older lady with a small grin and an arched eyebrow on her face met the knight's confused visage. She wore a plain, modest dress with a tincture of light blue, and her flowing, straight hair had a matching ribbon to top it off.

"Wait, aren't you-" Davion began to say, but was interrupted by the familiar face.

"Yes, indeed. I am the bartender that gave you the location of that pesky dragon, in case ya don't fully remember." She said, "And good on you for being rid of 'im. The bugger was harrying our cows for quite the while, now. But no more, thanks to you."

"Why am I here? How did you know that I would be in danger?" The knight was still confused, having found himself in this woman's home.

"Oof, I 'ad my ol' husband come after you." She responded, "I just had this 'ere hunch that you'd might not make it back without some nasty gash ailing ya."

"That's...Very kind of you to take me into your home. My apologies if I was of any trouble to you, miss…Err..."

"Lexine, young man." the lady said, chuckling at the young knight's forgetfulness, much to his chagrin, "And you don't have to worry, nooo. We should be celebrating your victory against that o'ergrown lizard! In fact, the village is commemorating a feast in your name this evening."

The knight is silent, averting his gaze from Lexine and lending it to the window again. The memories of the fight became clearer, and it brought him some grief.

"You alright, there, hero?" Lexine asked, unsure as to why the knight hasn't at least cracked a smile at the news.

The knight collected himself and cleared his sore throat a bit. It wouldn't do for a knight of his standing to break away from his oath and offend a lady.

"Yes, ma'am." the knight said with a sense of confidence, even going as far as giving a smile, despite his true feelings. "I was just wondering what it'd be like. The feast, I mean."

"Ah, yes." Lexine said, her voice a bit more cheery, in response to the knight's sudden change in tone. "There will be a toast in your honor, and as I am told, there will be a few bards that just dropped by that will be lending their instruments in the event."

"Sounds grand. I know I'll be there, now."

"I would hope so, Sir Knight. It wouldn't be awfully nice for the subject of this little celebration to just up and leave without trying the ale, first, would it?"

The two chuckled at this, and the knight's mood genuinely improved from the talking. At times like these, he wonders why he never chose to settle down, rather than putting himself in danger like he does.

"Ohh, I just remembered I 'ave to check up on the tavern, now." Lexine's face was changed to that to match her urgency. "We'll 'ave to continue this another time, I'm afraid. You can tell everyone of the epic showdown 'tween you and that beast, alright?"

"Very well, I'll be looking forward to that, miss Lexine." the knight said.

When she scurried back to work in the tavern, Davion let out a deep sigh. He understands that now that the subject of countless hours spent tracking is now dead, he has nothing of interest left to do with himself. There was also the matter of him being able to think about his life at all, as he clearly remembers his throat being ripped apart by the talon of the old dragon he had to put down. Speaking of which, he would have to ask Lexine's husband about Davion's state when he found him.

As he tried to make more out of his future plans, he heard a cry for help. He remembered then as to why he walked the path of a warrior.

Without hesitation, he looked around for a weapon. The chest in the room had something jutting out of it. He swiftly arose from his bed without delays of a sharp pang of pain, surprising, given that he just fought a dragon. Then, he approached the chest and pulled out the item in question. It was his blade; just what he needed.

He dashed out of the cottage, bare-footed and armed with his sword to find the root of the cry. At the village center he found a pair of grotesque, reddish-orange, bipedal monsters with glowing eyes were pointing their weapons at some of the villagers that surrounded them while they held a cowering young boy as their hostage. All the commoners have gathered around the dilemma in the rain, whispering amongst themselves.

"Listen 'ere, you blokes." The taller of the two announced. He was armed with a painful-looking bludgeon and was ready to use it, if need be. "Stay away from us, if not, then... The little urchin gets it, you 'ear?"

The talking within the crowd intensifies as they weigh their choices while the storm raged on. The second of the two creatures with a back problem and a staff sees the man armed with a sword.

"'Ey, you!" He says, alerting his partner. "Drop it!"

"If you let go of the boy, I'll consider it!" Davion states, making an effort to be as intimidating as possible, even though he is not wearing his armor.

"B-Blimey..." The upright one mutters under his breath. "Fine, then. But this 'ere little predicament won't be forgotten, I'll be carvin' off that gabber of yours soon, son, I swear on me mum!"

The one with the club throws the child unto the knight, forcing him to catch him as the two creatures make their exit. The knight drops his blade onto the wet earth and curses under his breath as he hears the squishing of the mud beneath the assailants' feet become quieter with each step, the noise dying down and being drowned by the storm, soon after. The boy in his arms is sobbing intensely, begging for his mother to come and comfort him. Davion tries to soothe the kid's panicking soul for a moment.

"Shh, child. It'll be alright, now." Davion says. "Where is your mother?"

The little boy calms himself to a few gasps and sniffles, and tries his hardest to make a comprehensible answer.

"Sh-She's over there..." he says with a wavering tone, pointing to his parent.

The knight takes up the boy and carries him to the worried mother. The young mother thanks the hero and everyone soon disperses, leaving only two people in the rain.

"Well, I wasn't wrong when I called you a hero, back there, now was I?" Lexine said, fairly impressed by how the knight without shining armor reacted to the situation.

"If anything, I suppose that's half of the reason why I took up the dragon-hunting business." The knight sighed, satisfied that the problem was over, for now.

"I can see that." She says with a hint of admiration. "Why don't you go on and rest for the afternoon. You'll be needing your strength and your appetite for when the feast begins. Also, with what just 'appened, I'm sure you'll be gaining a lot more praise from the village for your deeds."

"Until then, Miss." the knight says, turning back to the cottage.

Davion found his quarters, placing the sword back in the trunk, along with the scabbard he neglected to bring with him during the conflict. He lied down on the cot, and despite what had occurred, he still felt a hint of uncertainty with his life and for the fate of the village should the monsters from earlier return. He attempted to rest in his temporary room for now, eager to attend the festivities, but because of his unbecoming nerves as of late, it was only just that: an attempt.

* * *

 **A.A.N**

You guys already know how Quirt and Sithil were transformed into creeps when they were exposed to Radiant and Dire crystals, with both of them submitting to one in particular side, right? Well, I took that as a sign that a person's character is essential to knowing which side they will likely join. Quirt seems like the smart/sophisticated sort, so he became Radiant, while Sithil joined the Dire for the opposite reason. So, in this island, the (British Isles-like) inhabitants were influenced by both crystals, and those that stayed around them for too long became one of these ugly mutants.

As for heroes, however... I have another theory in mind.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Prologue IV**_

Davion's eyes opened up to a dark room. He still on the cot in a cottage, luckily, for he had feared that the creatures did come back for the village while sleep had finally found him during his many tries at it. The lantern's flame had died out, perhaps because he neglected to turn it off, leaving it to burn, or because his caretakers had done it for him. He felt a bit embarrassed, but stumbled out of his slump and stretched, but not before clumsily stepping on some leathery objects. A pair of boots were there, for Davion, no doubt. The house's keepers' hospitality is certainly something special. A low yawn sneaked up on him. The oxygen rushing into his brain allowed him to recollect himself, mentally. Even after on the thinking from earlier, Davion felt that something important was missing. He scratches his head while in deep thought of this missing oddity, but just shrugged when he couldn't come up with an answer.

As he made his way out of the door, he thinks he remembers what has been bothering him. He turned back to the room and reached opened the trunk. He hardly took a good look at what was inside of it, earlier, as he was absent-minded in seeking a weapon of some sort during the time. This time, however, he allowed himself to check for as long as he needed. He saw his arms and armor, with the plate well organized in the chest, the shield he carries on top of it, and the sword beside it, lain to rest for a short while. He was reminded that the blade was the only thing sticking out of the chest, when he found it at first.

Call it intuition on the graciousness of the caretakers' behalf to leave it to the knight to find his belongings, should he desire, for that was the thought that came to mind when he noted this minor irregularity, for the weapon was not left snug next to the large shield.

Regardless, he took up his sword in the scabbard once more. Davion took a moment to study the large, but deceitfully well-balanced sword with a heavy hilt and red accents. He stares into the now unsheathed relic of a bygone kingdom, and sees that the metal has been cleared clean of any acidic dragon blood, leaving a clear blade. Even so, he saw hardly anything in the metal gazing back at him in the poor lighting, and the faint moonlight that leaked onto the wooden floor from outside hardly helped the matter. He slowly sheathes it into the scabbard, as to not make noise to those that might still be in the home. Speaking of which, the knight didn't hear anything stir within the cottage, as of yet. Perhaps they wait elsewhere?

The knight fastened the weapon onto the belt on his clothing and set foot outside with the new pair of boots left by his bedside. He hardly saw anyone outside in the starry night. The ground was still mushy from the precipitation of before. Davion then saw the large collection of lights by the village center, and walked towards it. As he left the proximity of the house, he heard a familiar animal's gleeful cry behind him. The man turned around to see his old mule under the moon's light, with a leash on him and tied around a post on the corresponding side of the house. He smacked his palm across his face as he realizes that this is what was really missing, after all. He felt like an idiot, having forgotten his pack mule. He ambles to his only true companion in a lonely road, edging the small pen it is in and giving him a firm petting. Davion knows he'll be back to feed his mule some tasty scraps.

Life in the hunting business – in general – is tough and solitary. So, what little company and memories one can have is enough to drive lone somebodies like the knight through their days in this path.

Davion backs away and hurries on to make his appearance to the party, with the mule simply awaiting its master, this time around.

* * *

"Uh… S-sir?"

"I already saw."

"O-oh. Well, we… Ahh..."

"Begone with you two!"

The pair of reddish-orange bi-pedals scrambled away, and in their place was a sighing man in blackest armor. A horse whinnied in disagreement to her master's outcry.

"Peace, my steed..." His low voice rumbled like earth in buckling chaos. "We'll get to him, soon enough."

* * *

A few hours pass, and it is well into the night, as the attendants of the affair are all but drunk and weary from the games and drinks. The knight himself has indulged in quite a few of these games, namely the jousts and such in the small tourney the denizens of the community have set up – all in the name of friendly sport, of course. Davion was woozy from the social occasion, having had innumerable rounds of the finest mead the small hamlet had to offer. He was as surprised as any who witnessed the feat of having drunk so much, especially since he didn't claim to feel much of a buzz from the alcohol after downing at least a dozen and a half mugs of liquor, as he certainly didn't have this in him, then. Some even claimed he gave off a bit of flame from one of his belches, but they were all so inebriated by then, that they passed it off as the alcohol gave them a distorted sense of perception. Goodness, some of the fellows even cheered him on, having done such a thing. It was quite the night, indeed.

The skies were still dotted with the stars, looking down upon the party-goers. Many have chosen to go home, now, and the knight included, remembering to at least bring some grains for his animal. Along the way, he already began to sober up rather quickly, like the monks of the Order of Oyo in the distant Wailing Mountains up the north mainlands. He trudged back to Lexina's cottage to bid her and the husband farewell. He saw the couple at the entrance of the building, opening their home.

"Miss Lexine!" Davion cried out, treading a little faster to her and the spouse. "I wanted to thank you both for giving a helping hand; your kindness has been some of the best I've seen in years."

"Oh, that's all right, Sir Davion." The remarkably sober bartender said, the knight having finally reached the two by the door. "You 'ad it coming, you did. Was there something else you needed?"

"Yes, actually. I would like to know how your husband found me, while in the cave."

"Ah, yes, Harold: would you tell 'im, dear husband o' mine?"

"Err, yeah." the man said, unable to stand up straight easily. "Sorry if I'm a tad tipsy, lad. Anyway, I found you strewn across the floor, ship-shape and all, with your blood on your neck, but with no wound, for some odd reason. So I thinks to myself 'why is this man just laying here if he ain't actually hurt?'"

How odd it must be to hear this. Though, there is always something stranger...

"I checked ya, and I saw nothing wrong with ya, except the one claw the beast you killed had plenty of blood and even some skin on it." He says in amazement. "Whatever happened in there couldn't have been right. It's amazing, really. I'd say you'd be the luckiest man in the world if you only had to have some blood wiped off some vital part of your person, and not say, missing that vital part entirely. Awesome stuff, ain't it?"

A chill went down the knight's spine, and having heard Harold's explanation only made him even more confused as to what kept him alive.

"Thank you for telling me this, Mister Harold. Looks like I'll have some more traveling to do, yet, if I want to know what happened."

"What? Leavin' already?" The lady asks.

"I'm afraid so, I have to know."

"Well, don't forget the mule, if you have to go." Harold says, pointing to the pen.

"Why do you guys have a pen, if I may ask?" Davion asks.

"Oh, it was for our old dog. Bit of a rascal, that hound." The man says. "Poor thing ran off some time ago, and we haven't seen 'im since, bless his soul."

The knight nods and goes to his mule, releasing it, and giving him a small chunk of the bread he brought for him.

"At any rate, thank you both for everything. It was a pleasure."

"Anytime, and be sure to come back someday, if you can. I'm sure the village will appreciate it, good sir." Harold says.

"Of cour-" The knight begins, but is interrupted as a crude crimson arrow whizzes by his face landing on the door frame. The couple was shocked, but the knight hardly cared, and notices it has a poorly made piece of parchment on it.

What a cliché means of getting the message _across_ , eh? Heh.

He removes the arrow from the door frame, tossing it aside as he take the note from it, reading it near the torch by the home.

'IF YOU'D LIKE POWER BEYOND YOUR WILDEST DREAMS, BOUNDLESS KNOWLEDGE OF AGES PASSED BY, OR A HEFTY SUM OF GOLDEN REPRISAL, ATTEND THE LOCATION SEEN BELOW.'

The note gave a surprisingly detailed map of the surrounding area, with an X scrabbled on one of the crossroads leading away from this corner of the world and into the harbor, which would lead him off of this island.

"What was that?" Lexina asked while her eyes scoured the place. "What's in that there note?"

Davion gave them the paper, and saw a confused look in their faces.

"Perhaps I should attend to that, instead. It might be from those things from earlier, setting up a trap." The knight said. "I doubt they'll put up much of challenge. Regardless, if I don't take care of it, they may end up going for the village, when I leave for certain."

"Ooh, very well, Sir Knight." She says. "Don't forget your gear, alright?"

He sends another nod her way and goes inside to recollect his belongings. They give their final farewells for the time and the knight and the mule leave their refuge, with the animal having the last of the food provided by its master, leaving it content. They travel down the roads, following the guidance provided by the map in the starry night.

* * *

 **A.A.N**

While I am finally beginning to get a grasp on grammar (no thanks to the lack of proper [required] writing classes at my school), I've been looking up sources on how to further improve the readability of my work, so you don't end up becoming bored, if you made it this far, that is. My prose needs to be more colorful and immersive, and since this story is being told by the Secret Shopkeeper, who has that charming way with words already, it's only proper that I do it. I just need more time to look up better ways to do so, and then we'll see it just how much more enjoyable it'll be. For now, basic edits and grammar.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Prologue V**_ (Updated)

The night was still at its peak, and it had been a half-hour since the pair took to the beaten path in the middle of the woods. The well-worn path was lit due to the favorable position of the crescent moon hovering directly above the knight and mule, unfettered by the trees around them, acting as their guide in the large island to the northwest of the mainland. Everything around them was quiet, but not silent, as the nocturnal inhabitants around them gave a faint but audible clue to their presence.

The island once served as refuge to those that would seek respite from the constant wars back in the larger continents. One could easily see how its relatively untouched tranquility, even now, would serve as a beacon of sanctuary. It changed, for a time, when the green creatures and red beasts from the mainland sprung up from seemingly nowhere, annexing the western portions of the island in a choke hold of war, bringing the other kingdoms under the glowing crystals' influence from their whence they came with them. The kings and queens, the barons and nobles, all of them establishing colonies and keeps near those glowing harbingers of doom, in hopes of defending these newly-formed Nemesis Stones. As of now, the Stones are dormant in their hostilities to the other, bringing harmony back to this island and an uneasy peace back in the mainland, marking this age as the first in where there are no ploys to conquest in this world, but as the people in this broken world all know: good things never last forever.

The dragon hunter took another peek at the map, taking note of his surroundings and any possible signs stating the divide of the path that would either lead one further into the now peaceful western regions of the land, or to the south-east harbor, where both bustling city of Farraige and his means off this island reside.

Not too far now, until they have reached the meeting point, so says the parchment.

The woods rustled and the knight marched along with his companion while he took a swig of water from his designated magic bottle that the mule carried. He remembered his encounter with a humorous old man in blue from the Wailing Mountains that gave him this mystical container for free, along with a few quips, on the side.

The knight had finally reached the crossroads, and a chipped wooden sign stood in between the diverging paths through the forests. The left road would take him outside the island, and the right would take him elsewhere, where danger would have made its home. Besides that, nothing else was there. Not anymore...

Davion simply took a seat by a nearby fallen log on the right side of the road, easing his legs. The mule followed and stayed near his owner, giving a soft neighing. The small, little thing nestled into its master's arms.

The woods behind Davion rustled loudly. Someone's lost dog, perhaps? No, as the greenery sounded louder, there came a dreadful and almost frantic feeling weighing heavily in the air. The mule felt this as well, and neighed even louder. A rhythmic pattering came soon after from deep within the right route in the woods, slowly but steadily growing in volume. Then, Davion could see a dark, cloaked figure on a horse that also wore some coverings. He could swear he can see a faint glow coming from both their eyes in the darkness.

The rider finally draws near the two, with the smaller of them quivering in fear. He says to them:

"Ahh...So you must the one whom troubled my minions, are you not?" The man said, the voice calm and as deep as a well. He carried a menacingly cruel cudgel at his side, lined with spikes and having a familiar dark orange glow of swirling energy near the end of it. Davion looked up to greet the eyes of the carrier, but found an abyss of a face, covered in a shade of dark provided by the large hood of his massive cloak. His eyes were not truly eyes, just more of the odd energy. In it, the hunter nearly lost himself in a maddening frenzy, but not before turning away.

"Yes, and I am surprised I'm not being ambushed, as of right now." The knight said, confused as to why he had not brought any of his underlings with him, unless he had them in hiding and they are all around him right now with their weapons trained at his vitals in a hypothetical charge that would leave him skewered.

"Mmm, you mistake me for a dishonorable craven." He says, his horse giving agreement with a deep, distorted whinny. "Fear not, if there were any true grievances between us, it'd be settled much more...Intimately."

"Well then, what did you summon me here for, if not for your 'men?'"

"I assume you have read the parchment, yes?"

"I have, and I would like to hear your word on this, perhaps before anything 'intimate' happens."

"Very well, bold one." He quips, his tone still cool and low. "But first, let me introduce myself. I am a traveler from distant lands that adheres to the name of Nessaj. I have heard many tales of a lone warrior dubbed by many as the Dragon Knight. I would assume that is you, if I am not mistaken."

Davion looked through the wanderer on the horse, careful to avoid eye contact. That caught his attention, for sure.

"...Yes, I am that man. Do you need something of me?"

"I am scouring the lands, seeking worthy individuals to accompany me on a mission to hunt my damnable sibling down. I have come here to hire your skills, as you are a hunter of astounding precedence, or so I hear." Another whinny from the horse.

"What say you?" Says the dark horseman.

"Who is this sibling of yours, Sir?"

"An ancient male rider that goes by the name of Ezalor. He wears a pure white robe and a shining staff. He does not belong here." He says, "Heh. And by that logic, neither do I. Have you seen him, perchance?"

Ancient, his brother claims him to be. One has to wonder just how old this cloaked fellow is.

"No, I haven't." The horseless knight replies.

"That is a shame... At any rate, I had best be going to the Kingdom of Elze, surely they will know...If you see anything, I will make it worth your while if you take him to me." Said the horseman. As his horse turns about, the rider leaves the Knight perched on the wood with one last thing: "I can reveal your true self, and your power, mind yourself on that. Regardless of your answer, I will be seeing you soon, Sir Knight. Hyah!"

His horse galloped off, down into the left path in the road.

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

Here is Davion, staring down something while sitting down. Kinda brave, and a bit foolhardy? I'd figure he needs to be. He killed more than his fair share of beasts more than twice the size of Nessaj.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Prologue VI**_

The moon above the clouds is setting, giving way for its celestial neighbor to peek, with all its engrossing incandescence staining the skies orange and yellow as the early birds chirped in agreement. Davion and his mule finally find themselves outside of the port, met by the large wooden portcullis gate that is surrounded by high stone walls decorated with murals of the city's aquatic history. The knight looks through the square holes the gate provided, and sees two fellows with spears and armor making their way to meet the visitor.

"Yes? 'Ello? What did you need?" The hunched over, portly guardsman said sheepishly while adjusting his large helm, most likely having just woken from a nap. Davion could just barely see a scraggly neck beard on his multiple chins and noticed that his uniform looked as if it had seen better days.

"Can I pass, good sirs? I am seeking someone that may be in here." Davion says, anticipating to meet the Nessaj once more for some answers.

"Wouldn't happen to be that one gentleman riding a horse, would it?" The skinnier of the two said. He sported a remarkable goatee and kept his armor well taken care of. "He was quite the oddball."

"Yes, actually. Is he still there?" Davion asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Well, no, I think." The skinny one says. "But I suppose you want passage? It'll cost you."

"Hold for a moment, where did the man go?" Davion asks.

"Oh, uhh…He went to the east on a ferry." He says. "Said some nonsense about a bright light or whatever. _He refused to pay the damn fine, too_ … Anyway, you paying, or what?"

 _'It didn't cost anything to gain entrance to this place by sea, so why should there be a tax to gain entry by foot?'_ The knight thought to himself, smelling that something foul is afoot.

"Now hold on-" Davion begins to say, as suddenly he was interrupted by the appearance of another guardsman approaching the two others. She looked at them, with the two staring back with a very shocked looks on their faces.

"Oy, 'ere they are, lads!" The shield-maiden yells to the unseen men behind her just around the corner. "'Ere's the blokes that got Jim and Arnold!"

"W-well, damn. _Nicetomeetyouall, goodbyenow!_ " the lanky one says, sprinting and abandoning his weapon. "Come on, Quirt!"

The fat one quickly trudges after his partner, doing the same. Both of them eager to leave despite the two not scoring some easy coins from unwitting fools today. The woman sent her four other compatriots hounding after them, with her taking note of the visitors by the gate.

"Hmm? An' who are you lot supposed to be?" She snarls, pointing her drawn blade towards the two travelers.

"...We were looking to get inside." Davion says, having just absorbed the absurdity of what he saw. "We mean no harm."

"Well now..." She says while glancing at his entirety, smirking a bit. "You do seem a decent fella. 'Ere's hopin' you ain't like them two, eh?"

She withdrew her ornately made saber from the man and called out to someone above her in a commanding tone:

"Oy, get this gate open! Quickly now, recruit." She says.

"Y-yes ma'am." A young, masculine voice says.

The portcullis gives way, making its way above the two near the gate into its proper place. Davion and the mule go through the entry, greeted by the bowing lady in front of them.

"Welcome to Farraige." She says, standing up straight. "Whatever you're 'ere for, just don't try not to make a mess, you 'ear? If I get word of anythin' on your behalf, you're out a here."

"Thank you, ma'am." The knight says, reciprocating the bow with his own, with her catching up to her men.

'Now, where could he be?' He thinks to himself, looking around and seeing nothing but eye-pleasing homes and businesses all around him.

He sees the white-walled and blue-roofed buildings around the entrance of this town square showered in the orange light from above them, many of them having more of the beautifully made murals from outside that tells a story of its own, beside the one the culture it originated from has designated to give. The bustling markets were not too far ahead, with quite a few citizens browsing the wares it holds, each of exotic variety hailing from the scorching deserts of the Scintillant Wastes and Misrule, to the frigid climes of Icewrack. Beyond that, the seagulls could be seen circling around the masts and its large sails on large merchants' vessels. Even though all these remarkable things were presented to him, there was no sight of the cloaked rider.

Davion lurked in the bazaar all day, looking for the hidden horseman, hoping to at least see the large stallion Nessaj rode on, with the mule having a bit of difficulty keeping up in the crowd of constantly shifting buyers. He was not at the blacksmith's, or the sundries store, or even at the tavern by the main square he entered in. Not here, nor there, could he be found.

"Damn it!" Davion mutters, his words drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the streets.

 _'It'd be best if I just stay for the night here. If I can't find him today or tomorrow, I will have to see if he's at Elze, after all. I feel worn out, besides.'_ He thinks to himself, ready to call it a day.

He looks around him, making sure his beige mule is with him. Thankfully, he is. They make the inn right next to the tavern – almost right where he entered – in this sparsely populated square. Night has arrived once more and he has end this day and leave by tomorrow if he can't find Nessaj. He enters the lofty little locale, met by a well-groomed, poor-sighted, – as far as the reading glasses could say to its beholders – but pudgy individual in gaudy garments behind a counter on a rather comfortable looking chair.

"'Ello, sir." He tips his hat in respect to the plated man in front of him in this classy establishment. "Will you be stayin' with us again in _'Posh and Pardon's'_?"

"Err, yes, I will." Davion says, still taken aback by this blue-blooded culture, despite it being the second time he has been here. "50 gold a night, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sure you know where your quarters are?"

"Of course, I'll see myself there, thank you." He says, handing fifty of his gold pieces from his purse to the man behind the counter.

"Please mind your pet, Sir Knight, and 'ave a fine rest." He says, writing down Davion's name once again in his log, ensuring him his lodging.

Davion finds his quarters in the second floor, only a small pacing down the hallway with windows to its left-most wall that were pierced by the moonlight's glow and the rooms to its right with lanterns hung around the door frames. His room was one of the first: Room 2, since 3 was nonexistent due to the work of magic, or so the innkeeper says.

He lays eyes on the plushy bed by the corner that is overlooked by yet another window, and its own magics tantalized him as he prepared to rest his weary head. His mule was stripped of his own gear and was almost instantly unconscious, soon after. Davion rids himself of his burden and places it in the convenient trunk right in front of the bed.

He sets himself on the bed, groaning in relief after the mystifying few days that have passed so far. It was odd enough to still be alive after hunting dragons, before this, but his survival this time, as well as the other oddities that have happened so far are something different, that is for sure.

Davion is lulled to sleep, and all was well – as it should be – for once.

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

Hey, I'm back. I am working on the 2 others, don't worry.

So, in case you didn't know, this little town doesn't really exist in the DOTA world. I would have had it been the capital of Cladd, which is Kunnka's home, but nah, doesn't fit. I think Cladd should be south of this bigger island, only having some connections to Farraige through trade, or something.

I nearly forgot, I will be making more fics on other subjects, including another for this game that ties in with the main story (This one). Stay tuned for more.

Review, ask questions, share and/or follow for more.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Prologue VII**_

 _Once again, the knight's eyes cracked open to see the two lights presented before him. Something was off, though, and Davion easily saw it. The dim and familiar orange glow has become much larger than before, its energies becoming even more captivating to the knight. The other light, however, seems to have dwindled in size, somewhat, as if overshadowed in importance and strength by the other. Both lights still shine out, drawing him closer to their power. Even though his options' strengths – and therefore their sizes – varied since the last encounter, he still felt he was getting closer, ever since then, and the aura the two lights radiated prove that, teasing him with their promises._

Another early morning spent getting ready for the rest of the day was held, and then, both the dragon hunter and his pet were prepared for what was to come. Davion goes back down the flight of stairs leading to the entrance of the inn, but the innkeeper was not behind his counter. Regardless, the man left without giving his farewells, eager to look for his new quarry.

Another few hours were spent on the search in all of Farraige, be it the peaceful residential area filled with children playing their games, the winding bazaar in all its chaotic nature, or the lively harbor, filled with businessmen and sailors, all of which are playing a part to unload their cargo while the birds around them looked for an opportunity to feed themselves. Even though the knight was determined, it did nothing, as no one has the resemblance of the horseman, and none have even seen the man. Finally dejected from the fruitless effort, the knight gives up, going back to the harbor to gain passage to the mainlands in the east of this island.

By then it was already noon, so the sun watched over all, being the centerpiece in the sky that has an entourage of clouds beside it, blinding it every so often. Davion has bought the means to get out, but it doesn't leave until a few more hours. What better way to waste the time than to get a drink or look for some supplies for the trip? He slinks into the crowded market, and being taller than most, he could get a proper look at the deals some of the stalls were providing, such as fish being bought at half price, or cloth at twenty percent off the absurd price tag. He eventually stumbled to the sundries store. General goods varying from green medicinal salves, odd little enchanted bands, or something mundane, like packaged food could be found within here. Davion is greeted by an exuberant young lady with light blue hair, and she gestures to the sign beside her. It appears that they were having a sale, as well, most of everything is half off, and any traveler worth their salt sees this as a god-send, so Davion cracks a small grin at his fortune.

He leaves the place with plenty of food in hand, placing it on the mule. He even bought a few handy filled with a viscous green fluid that flowed as slow as honey. Pretty thick stuff. He goes to the tavern to finish off what few hours he has left until he leaves.

Yet another few more hours pass by, and the knight drank little to keep himself alert enough to know when to leave, but buzzed enough to at least enjoy himself. He trudges along back to harbor through the market and finds that most a lot of other people – especially merchants – were getting on the ride with him on this ferry. Davion finds a comfortable little spot beneath the decks with his mule and waited there. The ships sails unfurled, and they were all well on their way to their destination.

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

A bit of short one, it seems, sorry. The prologue ends at IX or X, so expect this segment of the story to end, soon. Also, the other fic for this game will be coming sooner than the rest of the other things. Speaking of which...

Alright, so I said there would be other things I will be making. So far the list includes Dragon's Dogma, Fallout, TF2, and perhaps a few original ideas. The list still isn't complete.

The original ideas will (eventually) be held in this website's sister site: Fictionpress. That place allows original content to made, so check the place out if you'd like something different from other aspiring authors.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Prologue VIII**_

Davion finally stirred from his cozy spot inside the ship. It was no longer sunset, or even dark. It was daytime. The gulls still went about with their pesky calls to one another; the people still chattered within the ship and above; and the soft impact the gentle sea's liquid with the ship's hull still resounded to all – everything was just fine. Not satisfied with the rest on the floor, up against the wall, Davion set foot outside of the ship's interior, and was met by the others in the ship. A few nobles here and there, as well as some of the wealthier merchants were there, gazing into the wide expanse of the sea or simply conversing of the on-goings of their 'ever-so-important' lives back in their country. Davion sneered at their lofty lifestyle and prestige, even if he isn't much of one to judge, as he was once like that. Now, he is more of a man whom would show his worth in heated debate, be it with words or sword, and it almost always ends with the sword, due to his fiery nature. Despite his dislikes, he joins some of them in their watch, becoming captivated by the sea's allure. He couldn't help but to listen to what a few of the wealthy individuals had to say, so he did.

"Did you hear, old friend?" Said one of the blue-bloods. "I've heard that one of those slithery thugs from Dark Reef Prison has went and done away from that hole."

"Ah, yes." The other says. "I myself have discovered that some demons just south of us have threatened to attack the nearby nation of Cladd, but I'm certain that they can handle some nasty old demons, especially with that admiral of theirs. What was his name, again?"

"I do believe his name was Kunkka, good sir."

"Ohh, yes, that odd fellow. I've heard much of his exploits, like the ti..."

Davion's ears eavesdropped on a pair of ladies' rumors, all the meanwhile looking out into the sea to pass the time.

"So, have you heard?" Said one. "That lady: Korbelus. The tall and beautiful prophet?"

"Mmm-hmm…?" Hummed the second.

"Well, after our divination, she says she could not find her own death, and that she'll be setting out to find it on her own!"

"Well, now that's something, for certain."

More and more conversations found their way into Davion's ears, some about a trio of demolitions experts dealing doom to all their previous homes, others about the fall of Stonehall at the hands of demons, the Mad King's death by mauling, and many other troubling occurrences happening all closely to one another. Some even said that the end times were upon them all, not without cracking a laugh at the thought, of course. Unfortunately, none were about an old man with the brilliant staff and white stallion, or his dark counterpart.

After some time, the seas started to become restless, becoming more forceful in their impacts to the ship. The captain and his crew were assured back at port that it would be a good time to sail, but the rough seas and the thunderstorm down south by Cladd say otherwise. A few on the boat grew restless, Davion included, but the rest sensed nothing wrong. The knight, on the other hand, felt a chill in his spine. A man from the ship's crew came near and proclaimed to all:

"It's alright, everyone, just a small storm, we're sure. It won't be coming near us, where we're going."

Even so, Davion still thought something peculiar was amuck.

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

I'm back, and I owe an explanation.

So, the deadline for moving out of my old home caught up with me, then came the unpacking, then the party, then the tedium of setting up the internet and cables. So yeah, there's that.

Anyway, I had to make this quickly, as soon as everything was fine. Shame it had to be short like the last, but I had to make an update.

This will now be updated irregularly, due to reasons, and because I'll be starting on those 'other' ideas.

Also, I have plans to re-do this story in another view point, but I wonder when I'll get around to it. On top of that, the story will not be solely be in Davion's perspective, it will be on the others', as well. Or at least, in Davion's team, as to not spoil any plans the other may have.

Until next time, everyone.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Prologue IX**_

As they got off the boat, any and all that would have thought something shady would have happened on the ride were quickly reassured by their arrival on Keen shores. They were approached by the diminutive folk, all whom had offered to carry their bags for them and provide escorts to the nearest inn.

"Welcome to Parva!" They said to the travelers. "Please, allow us to help."

Davion was already going to leave the place, even if it was nearly sundown, but he still needed to look around the place, to see if Nessaj was around. He and his mule followed suit, eager to know what they'll find next.

Davion and the others towered over the Keens, being able to see the entirety of the cobblestone buildings and such in this maritime town. It had all the commodities of a well-to-do living space, such as Farraige, but it also had workshops, its own well funded laboratory, and many other specialized buildings, as the Keen folk are ones to look into technology and the sciences, as they cannot rely upon magics to prosper, like many of the other races.

They arrived to the inn at the town square, which was abuzz with merriment and intellectual chatter. The merchants and the rest went on their way inside the inn, ever ready to rest not in a boat where seasickness is inevitable, but instead on a stable, warm bed. Davion, however, went off to go to the nearest tavern, which shouldn't be anywhere else but inside the square.

* * *

Inside the tavern, the _'Hop-Scotch,'_ as they call it, there were actually more than midgets inside, there were cat-like people from the far-away deserts of the south, all bearing fur the color of the sands, themselves. There was also the odd centaur, and for some reason, a tiny stone golem beside it, both having a drink together. But, the most noticeable thing inside was the large crowd swarming something or someone important. Nonetheless, the knight came up to the only Keen – the barkeep – and asked:

"Your specialty, please."

"The _'Dragon's Scotch?_ ' Sure thing"

He received his mug, and dove into it with gusto. True to its namesake, it had a very spicy essence to it, which almost made the man choke. _Almost._ Even if he can't get intoxicated easily, he'll make the most out of this new ability. Then, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

 _"Mmff?"_ Davion says, the mug's contents still going down his gullet.

He turns around and sees a man in a formal blue uniform with gold highlights, bearing a curved blade that seems to shine as if it was wet, as well as sporting a spiky set of black hair that would seem as if a powerful squall had shaped it. His skin was tanned and his face was scarred by a large X.

"Hoh ho, do I recognize you?" He said with a jubilant expression.

Davion looked around, seeing that this man was the subject of the crowd, as they have now surrounded them with receptive eyes and smiles as large as the Mad Moon. They all stood silent. Then, he looked in the man once more. He still had his compassionate expression, and he stood proudly, like a commanding officer. Something _was_ familiar about him.

"I'm...Not certain, but I do think I've seen you somewhere." Davion says, perplexed. "But...What is your name?"

"I am Admiral Kunkka, the Master of the Sea, himself!" His pride was especially noticeable, now. Davion couldn't help but crack a smile at this man. Maybe it was this personality, or perhaps it was this odd feeling he knew him well, but he didn't care. What he did care is as to why he is here, and what had happened in Cladd.

"Wait, aren't you supposed to be in Cladd?"

The whole room became silent, as the knight had said something he shouldn't have. The knight was unfazed, however, and awaited a response from the man, whom was still smiling, oddly enough.

"...Yes, but haven't you heard?"

"All I heard was that demons were sent out to destroy the nation. I don't know what else, besides the storm that hovered over the place."

The admiral stood silent, still with that cheerful look in his face.

"Never you mind! Hah ha!" The admiral said. "Come, everyone! The next round is on me!"

The tavern roared in whooping, cheering the admiral for his generosity. The crowd around the two dispersed and the moment it did, Kunkka came up to Davion and whispered to his ears only:

"Have a seat."

Davion did so, and Kunkka sat right next to him, taking up the mug he left on the counter.

"Now, how's about we have a drinking contest, huh?" Kunkka said.

"...Very well." Davion said, gazing into the man's unchanging look.

* * *

Oddly enough, the admiral won. Even though they both had dozens upon dozens of mugs, the man was unaffected by the alcohol entirely. He may as well be loading all the drinks into a dead man, as it wouldn't make him drunk, either. Davion, however, had his head against the counter, unable to make much of a comprehensible sentence soon after all the drinking.

"Hah, ha ha ha ha!" The gleeful man laughed. "What's the matter, knight?"

They all bid their farewells soon after, with the Admiral preparing for another expedition, he says. Somewhere to the east of the mainland. The flabbergasted knight traipsed onward to the Kingdom of Elze, walking through the woods and eventually finding a spot to rest his aching head for the night, unpacking his tents from the back of his trusty mule.

Once all that was done, he stuck his sword into the ground by the entrance of his tent, still a little too drunk to care for any that would trespass near his den and rested.

* * *

 **A.N.N.**

Hello, everyone. Here's the next. Prologue X will be the end of the prologues.

I'll be elaborating on the heroes' backstories as I see fit, Kunkka included. All of it will be on a separate story.

The next chapter will take place in the tutorial, though slightly changed.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Prologue X_**

There, in the midst of the foggy woods of Parva stood the Dragon Knight's tent, bearing the distinctive coat of arms of the lost land of Uthorian. They could see that their searching had finally paid off, after days, if not weeks, of mindless inquiring. They made a pace to the temporary home of Davion, eager to fulfill their given orders.

Dawn broke out once more upon this land. It was something of a cycle, but a normal one as there are worse such situations that are better left not repeated. As if on cue, the woodland creatures and birds in particular gave out their calls, the cries resounding in the cool, fresh air throughout the mist-veiled forest. All is still the same, as usual.

Davion stirred within his slumber, unable to block out the intrusive commotions reaching his ears. Groggy and uncomfortable as he was from the alcohol, he instead chose to rise from his rest rather than tarry any longer. He steeled himself for what there may be to come, as he is uncertain as to what may happen next, be it conniving brigands, foul beasts, or perhaps fate. He wore his armor and shield, both of which are infallible to flame or acid. All that was missing was the sword...

Then, some scurrying was heard. It wasn't the type one would hear from small creatures, it seemed… More threatening than that. It was much more structured, with the pacing in a steady rhythm, like that of a soldier's or maybe... A brainless, controlled creature.

"Hello?" A high, almost squeaky tone said, "Is anyone inside? We need to talk."

Davion remembered his blade was by the entrance of the tent, left in a fit of laziness and misconduct in part of the alcohol's effects. After quickly chastising himself for doing something so foolish, he stepped foot outside, immediately grabbing the blade and anticipating any aggression.

"Who calls-" Davion began to say to the unwelcome vistitors, whom he noticed were green and leafy bipedal creatures of short stature with swords.

"The Dragon Knight!" The one nearest to the knight said, "It's him!"

"What-" Davion said.

"Come here, we won't harm you." The other said.

"Why would I? Your friend, here, might just get me."

"Trust us."

Reluctantly, the knight made his way to it, keeping his guard up the entire time. Once he did, however, the short one bowed at him. That certainly disarmed him in a non-violent way, as he lowered his stance.

"See? It wasn't too hard, was it?"

"...What is it you want?"

"Ah, right." It said. "We need your help."

"What's the matter?"

"Please, just go north of here with us. Just follow the path, beyond the bridge."

"This is likely an ambush, I say."

"Hey, you came over to me. Why not trust us?"

He had a point. Davion would be dead where he stood, if they had meant harm. Grunting, the man tagged along with the two beings. His mule still slept within his own smaller tent just across Davion's. Assured that all was well, they rushed onwards to the smoke further ahead. They found themselves by the bridge and beside it, another green creature.

"Dragon Knight! A powerful fiend is ravaging our outposts! We beg of you, please kill him! Our leader is held up further within the base, he told us to send you on your way should we find you!"

"Very well. Come on, then!" The knight ambled to the distress past the bridge, the boards underneath him creaking from the weight, with his new comrades not far behind.

They saw another monster not too far away, he was red and short, like his companions. He remembered his first encounter with a few, back in the village by Slyrak's den. Without a doubt in his mind, the knight charged true to his target, guiding his blade to pierce his mark's heart. The blade found itself driven into the creature's torso, piercing its spine and its beating organ. The red foe stood, stunned, and as the sword was released from its back, the thing still had the will to strike back, as if the vitals were of no importance to him. The monster's crude weapon impacted against the shocked man's lower body. The blow stung at the knight's armored leg, as even for the adversary's small size, it still packed a punch. Quickly undeterred by his enemy's endurance, Davion countered with his shield, clobbering his opponent's skull with it. It flew back some inches, too traumatized to even squirm for a few precious seconds. Hastily, the dragon-slayer strode to the fallen foe, slashing at the creature and cleaving it in two as the incision spanned across the monster's stomach. It hollered out a chilling screech as it finally came to and saw the condition it was in. The scream, like its life, came to an end, soon after. While Davion's static companions looked on and cheered, Davion then looked at the remains. Unlike the intestines he was expecting to see, inside of it was an oddly-shaped crystal covered in blood. One of the three green pygmies approached the man, saying:

"You'd best keep that – it's very valuable to some people."

Davion took his spoil, trying to wipe it off. As it happens, it seems the crystal is actually not stained in crimson liquid and is actually of a reddish-orange hue. Davion gazed into the crystal, seeing a faint orange glow emitting from its core. It was familiar, and captivating.

"Dragon Knight!" Said a distant voice.

The knight came out of his stupor, looking around and finding that the three were already ahead of him, engaging some more of the creatures beside an encampment. The knight pocketed the loot and hurried on ahead to apprehend the foes.

* * *

"No, I haven't seen him, so please let us go! We're just tourists!" The man said, his feet a few inches above the ground due to the cloaked man's grip.

"...Useless!"

The man was tossed aside to the other side of the Parvan bar. The other on-looking patrons stepped the other way to evade the man's body. The dark figure sat himself by the counter's seats once again, contemplating his way to Elze, having been unable to make progress in this Keen port town on the whereabouts of a certain man. Then, the man's companion, a wizard from the city in question, had been preparing her spell until this point and had released the arcane orb of magic to the assailant. As it homed into its target, the man did take notice, but simply didn't care. When the mystic bolt was mere moments away from making contact, the dark brown cloak glowed somewhat, and just like that, the spell was canceled. The woman's surprise was changed to fear as the man stood to face her.

"Heh...That's the spirit." The man said. "Now, I don't need an excuse to leave this wretched hovel of a place as it should be."

* * *

The creatures proved to be pushovers, as Davion and the other three took down six of them by themselves. They pressed onward, and on that day, they saw yours truly just ahead. I goaded Davion to come closer.

"Hello!" I said. "Have a look, I'm sure there's something here that might catch your eye!"

Davion gazed at the selection of his fine wares. I had many magical armaments in stock that day, ranging from spherical orbs of red, blue, and purple, to a radiant green blade. All of them had the presence of someone – albeit faint and numerous – as if all of the merchandise had stories of their own to tell. In another section, he saw common paraphernalia for travelers, including flasks of a clear blue fluid, charmed rings, and many other things like back at Farraige. One caught his eye: the green bottle of healing salve, and as his adrenaline started to wear off, he saw how wounded he truly was after the last two encounters.

"Hmm? Oh, of course." I said, noticing Davion's intentions. "That'll be 110, please."

Davion searched his waist, unable to find his bag of gold. Again, I take heed.

"I assume you do have small gems, however?" I said. "Perhaps we can make a trade. Three stones for a life-saving salve?"

Davion turned to his other bag of loot. It housed seven crystals, one of which was taken from a hunched over bipedal with magic abilities. Its crystal was larger, and shone brighter than the rest. He takes up that crystal and two others and hands it to the merchant. I reciprocate in kind with the medicine.

After applying the salve where he can at the moment for roughly ten seconds, he and the others hear a horse's call not far from them. The knight went on ahead, the rest staying back at the reclaimed outpost by my shop. When he arrived, he was found by about a dozen of the red creatures, some of which were wielding staffs and were aiming their energy to him. They charged at him mindlessly, with Davion standing his ground. Suddenly, a flash of blinding brilliance surged forth from his left, forcing the knight to shut his eyes and remain steadfast behind his steel wall. The only things his senses could pick up was the exuberant sensation of relief that danced over his skin, mending it more than a simple rest in bed could have ever done, as well as the sound of many hoof-beats and whinnies from all around him. After that, the brief silence afterward was only supplanted by the sounds of nature, which went on as always. He opened his eyes and looked around himself, finding nothing but a diverging path that leads to darker lands. Most likely where the monsters came from. Before he could investigate further, he heard someone say:

"Ahhh. There we are!"

The voice, and the accompanying set of hoofs were coming from Davion's left. He turned, eager to know the root of all of this. Expecting nothing short of an amazing wizard with an enthralling, auspicious air to him judging by voice and implied prestige alone, he instead saw an old and frail man with white robes, hair, and beard, riding a slim white stallion with an argent caparison on its rear and shiny metal champron on its head. He held by his side a white staff that held a magnificent light within its rounded end, as if it is kept in safe keeping by its bearer so one could merely borrow from its seemingly endless potential.

"You're…" The knight began to say, recognizing the dark horseman's description.

"Greetings to you, Sir Knight." He took a bow on his horse. "I am the Keeper of the Light… Er… Ezalor, yes... Who are you?"

"I… Never mind that. You are the man someone is loo-"

"Please, at least have some manners."

"Ngh… I am Davion, a Dragon Knight." He said, bowing rather hastily.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Heh ha!" The odd man said. "...Now I remember, you're one of the objects of my quest. Silly of me to forget, eh?"

"Quest? Never mind, sir, I need to tell you of what might happen to you. There's a-"

The old man already moved on back from where the knight came, to the east. He shouted to the knight behind him, saying:

"Come, my friend! There is still work to be done!"

* * *

A swing of a spiked cudgel put an end to its suffering. The dog's owner fell to dark rider's hand, and the master-less mutt ran away into the city streets, along with many other screaming, fleeing citizens that are rushing down that same path, away from the murderer. The tavern has been reduced to rubble with the help of some undercover creeps under the rider's command. As he forces the weapon's pick unto another challenger, he finally had enough of it. He rallied all of his troops out and had them march onwards to Elze. As the man trod off on his dark horse, he looked back to see that the town was set ablaze as its denizens scattered about to calm everything down in a vain attempt.

"How... Chaotic." He mumbled. He leered at the destruction for a moment longer and chuckled at his words. "How fitting."

* * *

 **A.A.N.**

Here it is, finally. After all this time. I do not expect to make more until I find the motivation to go on. What's worse is that I have all of the story ideas written and ready for development. Until then, the most I am willing to do is improve upon what is already here.


End file.
